Chapter Text
The first time Thor saw her, he was almost too intimidated to say hello. She sat literally on the counter at the end of the bar, surrounded by her friends, resplendent in a lovely blue dress, which accentuated her lovelier brown skin and long black box braids, taking a breather from—as he found later, on their way to her apartment—working on her thesis. When she smiled, his heart leapt and fluttered in his chest. He sat at a table, tucked in the back—at Steve and Natasha’s insistence, it was hard for them to fly under the radar these days—with them and Clint while Carol collected their drinks from the bartender. Thor’s attention darted between the conversation happening at the table and the girl sitting on the bar until Natasha took notice and followed his eyeline. She smirked.
“She’s pretty,” she said. Thor looked away. “You should go up to her.”
“Who’s pretty?” Steve pivoted in his seat to look at her. “The black girl with the long hair?” Natasha nodded. “Yeah, Natasha’s right. She’s really pretty.”
Clint elbowed Thor in the ribs. “Go on, thunder dude. Show us your technique!”
Thor sat back in his seat. “I haven’t the slightest how to approach her. I’ve come to learn human women are beyond my comprehension.”
“Just be yourself!” Steve said. Natasha shook her head vigorously.
“Don’t be yourself.” Steve scoffed.
“Don’t listen to Natasha.”
“Yes, listen to me. High security? We can’t tell civilians who we are. Especially if we’re Norse gods.”
Clint raised his hand to preempt their bickering.
“Just be honest! Emotionally speaking.” Natasha and Steve stared at him, then nodded in agreement.
“Yeah,” Steve began. “Just, ‘Milady, I find you to be quite beguiling and I would like the pleasure of your company this evening.’” Thor squinted at his teammate as the others pondered this.
“Do I truly sound like that to you?” Thor muttered, amused.
“No,” Natasha said, shaking her head at Steve. “Less words.”
Clint slapped the top of the table. “‘Let’s fuck’!”
“Not what I meant,” Natasha replied. “But the enthusiasm is good.”
“What, that’s honestly what he’s hoping will happen, isn’t it?”
“Oh come on, Clint,” Steve exclaimed. “I’m sure Thor isn’t just looking to…”
“Fondue?”
“Damnit, one time—!”
“Hush,” Clint interrupted. “Can we just develop a gameplan here?”
“Gameplan for what?” Carol placed the tray of drinks on the table and took her seat next to Steve. Natasha reached for her whiskey sour.
“We were trying to help Thor come up with a way to hit on a girl, but it seems like he’s got it all under control,” she nodded to his now-vacant seat. Steve and Clint turned and stared as Thor walked over to the girl, shoulders squared.
Beatrix leaned against the wall next to the bar and idly stirred her Coke. Geneva poked her in the leg.
“So? What did Andrews say when you handed your translation in a full 10 days earlier than she told you to?” She bit her bottom lip and laughed.
“She said, and I quote, ‘I hope you proofread this, you little shit.’” The group of women let out a cacophony of laughter.
“Sounds exactly like her grumpy ass,” Elle said. Beatrix nodded in agreement.
“It was like she was mad I handed it in early. Like, ‘no, how dare you be on time?’” As Geneva turned to talk to Zoe, a tall, muscular, bearded blonde man sidled up to the bar. Beatrix sipped her drink, and stared at the beer taps next to him. He rapped his knuckles on the bartop.
“Barkeep,” the man’s voice rumbled. Beatrix bit her bottom lip. Elle poked her in the leg and mouthed ‘Oh my fuck.’ The man ordered another round for “himself and his compatriots,” then leaned against the bar to wait. His eyes alighted on Beatrix and he smiled, his bright blue eyes twinkling. Her heart quickened as she smiled in response then looked away. They sat in silence as he waited for his drinks. Geneva shoved Beatrix, gesticulating frantically for her to speak to him. Beatrix sighed and swatted her away. As she turned to speak to the man, she could see a table of people staring over at her. Her eyes narrowed. They all looked away immediately. She grinned, then pivoted toward him. He looked over at her.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi,” she replied. They fell silent. Geneva huffed. Beatrix slid toward him on the bartop.
“I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but you didn’t just come over here for more drinks, did you?”
“I’m afraid not,” he leaned against the counter and gently rapped his nails on the edge. “I came over because I find you to be very attractive and…hoped for…the pleasure of your company this evening.” A loud snort came from the blonde man in the blue shirt at his table and he cringed.
“Well, how flattering,” Beatrix replied. “You’re pretty easy on the eyes yourself.”
“Damn straight,” Elle blurted out. Geneva elbowed her in the ribs.
“Our friends seem eager for us to talk,” she said, trying not to cringe herself. She could feel Zoe’s gaze on the back of her head. The people at his table shifted out of the corner of her eye. His eyes flickered over to them, then back to her.
“Well,” he chuckled. “I admit, I myself am eager for us to converse.”
“Hmm. Okay, how about this.” Beatrix pivoted and pointed toward the other end of the room. “There’s a small booth over there, away from this side of the bar. We can talk without feeling like we’re on display.” He leaned toward her; even sitting on the bar, he was just an inch or so taller than her. He nodded.
“That sounds marvelous.” Beatrix slid off the edge, and walked over. He lifted his drink off the tray the bartender proffered and followed. Clint was there a moment later, grinning at Zoe as he carried the second round back to their table.
“There’s room with us if you want,” he called over his shoulder to them.
Names were exchanged: Beatrix, Donald. Occupations: Grad student, doctor. MD or Ph.D? MD. Do you like it? It’s certainly an experience.
Beatrix’s eyes narrowed. The corner of her mouth quirked up.
“Good or bad?”
“It…is what I was born to do,” Thor replied.
“Yeah. It’s a relief to have a calling. Kind of makes the path ahead easier to see.”
“What is your calling, then?” Beatrix bit her lip as she tilted her head to the side.
“Therein lies the problem. Sometimes I feel as if I have too many callings,” she joked. “I don’t know which one to obey a lot of the time. First it was swimming, then astronomy, then classics, and now linguistics. I have a lot of interests.”
“You say that as if it is a negative,” Thor said, leaning toward her. “It just means you have more to pull from.”
“That’s a very optimistic approach, thank you for that.”
“My pleasure.”
“So are you new around here?” Thor gnawed on his lip before responding.
“After a fashion, yes. My…”
“Coworkers? Roommates? Friends?”
“Yes, I suppose. We’ve been looking for a neighborhood tap to congregate in when we’re all together.”
“Huh. So I assume that you travel a lot?” Beatrix queried. Thor nodded, smiling as his head dipped down.
“A fair bit, yes.”
“Sounds like you enjoy it,” she murmured, sipping her drink.
“Do you enjoy…linguistics, yes?” Beatrix’s eyes lit up, a smile broke over her face, and Thor could have sworn that his heart was ready to burst. She leaned toward him.
“It’s fucking fascinating,” she began, her voice low and resonant. Thor mirrored her, his grin matching hers.
“Tell me about it.” Beatrix launched into an explanation of evolutionary linguistics and Thor watched her, torn between his interest and studying the bright, engaged look on her face.
"It sounds like a difficult area of study," he said as she took a moment to sip. "There's not much empirical evidence left is there?"
She nodded emphatically. "Not at all. There's plenty of written text to comb through, but we have no basis in pronunciation or even sounds. But I've always been a sucker for a challenge."
"I mean no offense, but you don't strike me as an adventurer."
"And no offense to you either, but you look more like a lumberjack than an MD," she shot back, winking.
"I suppose it wouldn't surprise you that I hear that very often, hm?"
"Nope. To be completely honest with you, I was a bit disappointed when you told me you're a doctor. I have a major soft spot for lumberjacks."
"I hate to be a disappointment, I shall just go." Beatrix's hand patted his, halting his move to stand.
"It's okay. I still like you, Don. Can I call you Don?"
Thor chuckled. "Of course. And...well, that I am pleased to hear."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment; Beatrix’s eyes traced over his broad shoulders and tried to keep her mind from descending into the gutter as he drained his bottle of beer.
“I see our parties have had no issue blending together,” Thor nodded to her left. Beatrix turned to look. Geneva and Elle were engrossed in an animated conversation with Natasha, Carol and Steve. Zoe and Clint were making eyes at each other.
“They look very comfortable together, yeah.” She squinted. “Is it me, or does your scoffing friend look like Steve Rogers?”
Thor smothered a chuckle. “You wouldn’t believe how often Grant hears that.”
Beatrix turned back to him and leaned over the table.
“Do you think they’ll notice if we just…sneak off?” Thor grinned and leaned toward her.
“That is dependent upon two things: how astute your friends are, and how skilled you are at sneaking off,” he replied. He tapped his knuckle on her wrist, then ran his fingers down her forearm. She leaned closer to him; their cheeks grazed.
“I’m brilliant at it, actually. I’m a little worried about your friends, on the other hand. Your blonde friend in the purple shirt, for instance—
“Bart.”
“Bart. He’s got a sharp eye, despite the four beers he pounded. And the redhead…?”
“Nadia.”
“Nadia seems like she’s not paying attention, but she looks over here every couple of minutes. I caught her in the mirror a few times.” Thor’s eyebrows shot up.
“You are very perceptive yourself,” he said, impressed. Beatrix shrugged.
“Survival skills, y’know.” Thor assessed her, then drummed his fingers on the table top.
“What do you think they are saying to each other at this very moment, then?” Beatrix tsked, then looked over her right shoulder at the group.
“Well,” she began. “Elle, the skinny brunette, is probably asking Nadia if you’re alright, meanwhile assuring Bart and…”
“Carol.”
“Carol that I’m a perfectly lovely person. When we do leave—”
“Ah, so we will be leaving together. Excellent.”
“As long as you know,” she replied, turning back to wink at him. “When we do leave, Geneva, the black girl with the nose ring, is going to complain, because I’m the designated driver for the night, then Zoe will mention that I’m probably calling them a taxi at that very moment, which I most likely will be.” Thor laughed.
“And is it too much of an imposition to ask you what my friends will be saying in response?”
“I’m sure you’re more qualified. Give it a try.”
“Hm. Well,” Thor looked over her shoulder. “Nadia will be singing my praises, whilst subtly and playfully mocking Bart and Grant, Bart shall have some witty rejoinder to her insult, and he and Carol shall trade barbed but friendly quips for a bit, which we can use to sneak off. Grant or Nadia will probably be the first to notice our departure, but they won’t mention it until we’re well enough away.” Beatrix nodded, then turned back to him.
“Hm. Well, I’m ready whenever you are.” Thor’s eyes flitted from her face to the group on the other end of the bar. When Carol began laughing, he grinned.
“Where to, milady?”